


The Russian Way

by StarlightOnInk



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Holiday, M/M, New Years, russian cinema, russian movies, the irony of fate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 20:11:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11539575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightOnInk/pseuds/StarlightOnInk
Summary: In which Russia helps America celebrate the holidays with a Russian classic. Written for the RusAme Holiday Event, based on the prompt "traditions." RusAme / AmeRus oneshot.





	The Russian Way

**The Russian Way**

The winter holidays were expected to be hectic. But, for multiple reasons, being the immortal embodiment of a country added an extra layer to the busy nature. Being the immortal embodiment of a country in a relationship with another country whose holiday operated on different days than yours made for something akin to anarchy if not properly managed. Such was the state Russia and America were usually in around this time of the year. Fortunately, both had long since proven they were perfectly capable of managing things properly.

The validity of such a statement is currently being harshly debated by a certain disgruntled Brit.

Other issues came into debate as well. Such as when to meet up to celebrate the holidays. Between December 25th as Christmas, Ivan’s birthday on the 30th, New Years, and Ivan’s Christmas on the 7th of January, they had much cause to gather and celebrate. But with such reason for rejoicing, they also had duties to their people, and such obligations were carefully respected. It took time, and they still had not perfected the process, but they were finding a way to make it work.

This year, Russia was visiting America shortly after the America’s Christmas, still early enough for some of the holiday sentiment to remain, but also early enough that he would be home in time for the end-of-year speech by his boss and the celebrations on Red Square. Ever since arriving at the airport, he had been particularly adamant about trying new things this year, but had refrained from providing any particulars until they reached America’s home.

As Russia sat hunched over on the couch working carefully on his knitting, America entered, donned in an atrociously gaudy Christmas sweater with functioning lights and a speaker. In his hands were several DVD boxes. “Alright, time for some _It’s a Wonderful Life_!” he announced, flourishing his collection with great ceremony.

Quick as a flash and with more readiness than one would expect from someone who had just been knitted, Russia dove for the DVD player. He blocked the disc slot with a box of his own. “Oh, no- we are switching things up this year. We have watched your movies plenty of times. Now it is time for mine.”

“Your…holiday movies?”

Russia nodded, pulling out the disc from its container and sliding into the player. “ _Da_. _Ironiya sudby, ili S lyogkim parom_ ,” he announced. “ _The Irony of Fate_. My children and I watch this each year around the New Year.” He beamed, filled with nostalgia.

“So it’s your _It’s a Wonderful Life_ ,” America asked slowly, taking the box from Russia and inspecting it as the other settled down on the couch.

“A bit, yes.” Russia nodded. America made a hum of interest, continuing to inspect the box while Russia started up the film. He gradually worked on translating the synopsis, but only got a third of the way done before loud music caught his attention. He glanced up, seeing…something he would not have expected. America glanced down at the box before looking once more at the screen, brow furrowed. Beside him, Russia continued to smile excitedly, looking back and forth from the screen to America.

Before him, America watched as a cartoon played, depicting an originally unique building being chased off by an army of uniform apartments. Those cookie cutter structures invaded everywhere- chasing down anything that was different, and the minds behind those different feats. The whole sequence of scenes was bizarre- but pretty amusing. A glance sideways revealed Russia’s shoulders shaking with soft, nostalgic chuckles.

“This was okay to show?” America asked, grinning, pointing at the television. The invasion of bland angry walking apartments was reflected in his glasses.

Russia nodded. “I explain more later. But the censors approached this with a certain mindset.”

America nodded to himself, turning back to continue watching. Eventually, everywhere was overrun by those identical generic apartment buildings, and the movie changed to live action.

“That’s not a very happy song,” America said slowly, as the main character, Zhenya, sang and strummed his guitar. “This is a comedy?”

Pausing in his humming, Russia confirmed the movie was, indeed, considered a romantic comedy. “But with elements of sadness, because what romantic comedy does not have some?”

“I guess…but…that’s not really what I’d sing if I were happy.”

“You are not the main character of this story.”

“I’m the main character of your heart, though, right? Hey- don’t get up, why aren’t you looking over here?”

The movie was hastily paused while America coaxed Russia back to the couch, the latter now staring fixedly at the screen…at least, for five minutes until some of the heat in his face had died down.

“That’s some good drunk logic,” America praised as Zhenya’s friends worked out how was supposed to go to Leningrad. “Hey, remember that time you thought you didn’t need a parachute because there was snow on the ground and _snow eez soft_?”

“I was not drunk then,” Russia scoffed. “And I was correct- I survived. America muttered something under his breath. “What was that?”

“Nothing, sugar, just watching the movie.” A brief stretch free of conversation passed, between America piped up, “Okay, but I _know_ you were drunk when you wanted to go jet-skiing with a car.”

“It was very rainy, the roads were wet, and my children have kayaked to work during floods- my idea was not so bizarre.”

On the screen, Zhenya was plopped onto a plane and shipped off to Russia’s second major city. Soon, his drunken self was in a taxi, requesting it take him several floors up to what he thought was his room of the apartment. The request was responded to grumpily.

“Hey, weren’t your bosses not cool with drinking at this time?” America cut in.

“ _Da_ , right, I was supposed to explain. You see, the censors allowed this film with poking fun at how similar everything looked by justifying this film shows we all live with a certain monotony only New Years can break. It was essentially stated that, sure, we acknowledge and poke fun at all this uniformity, and it is a shared experience that we all relate to- and the holidays are particularly special and worth loving for breaking that monotony.”

“And the drinking?”

Russia shrugged a broad shoulder. “It is not celebrating Zhenya’s drinking. The depiction does not make you want to go out and behave like him. It was okay because it was not idolized.”

America pursed his lips, thinking it over before nodding and returning to watching the movie. He grew quieter and quieter as the movie went on, at least in terms of comments. It made Russia’s heart warm to see America clearly engrossed in one of his beloved films- and he positively felt like floating when America laughed. “Okay, that’s hilarious,” America said through a smirk as Zhenya’s Moscow apartment key managed to open the door of its Leningrad counterpart. His eyes did not leave the screen even as he fidgeted to lay against Russia, cradled against his chest and under his arm. He remained fixated on the screen from then until the credits rolled, allowing Russia to indulge more in nostalgia, though violet eyes continued to dart down to monitor America’s reactions.

“Well?” Russia asked slowly.

America stared for a few moments more before turning, grinning and flashing Russia the thumbs-up; Russia had learned to stop being offended whenever he did this a decade or so ago. “That’s some good stuff, man. I can so see that being a holiday movie.”

Russia ruffled his hair. “It is. Every year around New Years.”

“Hey- you should tell me more stuff you and your people do around this time,” America said, voice turning warm, tender, sincere. He smiled an encouraging smile.

“If you insist. This is, really, just one of many.”

“All to ward off the monotony of the rest of the year?” America asked keenly, blue eyes dancing behind his glasses. He turned to fully face Russia, at last looking away from the television.

“ _Da_. That is part of it.”

America pulled himself up, his lips less than an inch from Russia’s. “I have some ideas to lessen the monotony too. It involves a lot of kissing and cuddles.”

Russia stared intently at him. “I can be persuaded.”

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to yantiskra for really clearly clarifying about what each date represents and what is celebrated, and for confirming that the movie mentioned is indeed a holiday classic.


End file.
